I sit alone as the evening takes hold of the sky, painting it with broad strokes of fire orange and bright pink. A table off to the side of the coffee shop is perfect to sit, let the mind relax, and allow the swirl of words out to play. They have waited patiently to tell their stories and when let loose, they dance with wild abandon, relishing the freedom from being cooped in silent places.
It’s been a long time since we made acquaintance & I am thankful for their presence; Old friends together again. In this space of time, the world has provided so much for the muse that some words start to meld together, fusing them as one. My pen flows across the page, trying to keep pace with the tempo, phrases tumbling faster than ink can record them. Time has suspended, it has no place here in this world of words.
Beatnik tunes fill the air above as the spice of chai stings the back of my throat. A broom whisks by and the barista shares a slight smile. It is time to close shop; but I’ve just found my long lost friends! May I stay just a moment longer to revel in their play?
Do not fret my story tellers. We will be together again.
And what stories we have to tell, on our horizontal lines.
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